Monday, March 24, 2014

Todavia lo soy

That Brave Little Toaster scene-- that flower scene-- has been haunting me again.
I don't think there's anything out there that captures my existence quite like that scene.

I'm perfectly fine-- shit, I'm even happy-- when I'm sitting alone, by myself... when no attention has been called to me or my situation... when others let me exist.
Then I hear the comments... then I must interact with society... and that's where I'm reminded that I'm just... different.

Like that flower, I didn't initially seek the isolation, I was placed in it. I learned to adapt to ostracism... to think it was what was meant for my existence. I learned not to seek attention, rather, fear it. Once attention is paid to me? I shrivel the instance I'm left alone... because I have that new taste of "knowing" what it'd be like to have company.

This active weekend of being surrounded by my kin drained the fucking shit out of me. It shook me up and reminded me of how fucking painfully alone and misunderstood I still am by these people who supposedly know me... the ones basically forced to deal with me since birth.

I sit there and observe my surroundings... but I can't hear a fucking thing. It all goes silent to me. My chest feels heavy with each breath I take, and the thought "Just get through this, get through this, get through this. Breathe in. Breathe out. Don't breathe too heavy. Don't let that shit call the attention of anyone around you. In. Out," is so loud in my head, I grow deaf to anything else.
Here I am, in a sea of people... and I feel so. fucking. alone.
I'm not like you guys. I never have been.

I need to stop typing. This is breaking my heart the deeper  dive into the subject.

... I hadn't cried in a very long time. Sucks I had to break the positive streak.

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